


the in betweens

by zhengharem (nicrt)



Category: NINE PERCENT (Band), 偶像练习生 | Idol Producer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gang World, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gen, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 01:29:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14989784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicrt/pseuds/zhengharem
Summary: a city split into six sections, each one a territory belonging to a different group - save for one, where no blood was to be spilled, where no bone should be broken. cross a line, and you'll be dealt with swiftly. make a mess, and it'll only get messier. piss off any one of them, then get ready to run for your life. a dog eats dog world, essentially. only the strongest survive, only the fittest lives on. do or die.for the key members of this story, giving to the lives of their respective worlds, taking to the parts they played in a godforsaken city, were as important to them as the blood they bleed and the air they breathe.but during the cracks in time, during the moments in between?they try to find themselves whole again.(or: the high&low inspired au no one asked for, with the zhengting harem nobody asked for either.)





	1. prelude

home was a combination of a place too comfortable and a people too familiar with. home was a time when after the whole world is done fighting against you, a moment when you hid from the world and let all your walls down. home was the spaces in between, the cracks that couldn't show in your daily life.

home was memories of the past longed for and long forgotten. home was the maybes, the what ifs, the almosts and could haves.

home was the blood on the streets, full of broken bones and broken skin, where winded lungs breathed rusted air.

home was an apartment too small for too many people. home was the home away from home.

home, was where they lost it all. and maybe, found it back again.


	2. licking wounds

eventually, everybody had to go back home.

back to the bars or clubs that they worked at. back to the internet cafes they squatted in. back to the small shelters built from tarp coverings and wooden planks. back to the lives that demanded money in their pockets and food on their tables. back home, back to reality.

the show had ended. their parts were played. and now that they've dropped the act, traded bravery for bravado, they go back to lick their wounds.

they go back to where it all began: zhangjing's little rooftop apartment. actually too small for all of them to fit into, who were all grown up into hardened adults, who had all grown out into long limbs and lanky frames. but the more things seem to change, the more things stay the same.

zhangjing still kept the old leather sofa, all frayed at the seams, with holes that were patched up with duct tape. still had the rickety plastic coffee table, a small stone keeping the thing stable on its legs. still kept the large corkboard propped up against one wall; pinned with recipes torn out of cookbooks or printed from online, a map of the world with thumbtacks all over it, and photographs of kids from once upon a time smiling happily at the camera. still kept the first aid kit on the bottom shelf of his mini bookcase stocked with fresh supplies of iodine and gauzes.

xukun hissed in pain at the spray of disinfectant across his back. "oww..."

"it wouldn't have hurt, like, _at all_ , if you hadn't been stupid." zhangjing nagged at him, putting the bottle back on the table. "i don't care whose life you were saving. pulling a stupid stunt like that..."

as zhangjing's nagging faded into quiet grumbling, xukun pouted at being reprimanded. it wasn't his fault yanjun was being a dumbass, suddenly charging at the thugs surrounding them from out of nowhere. so uncharacteristic of the other - to lash out in fury, rather than picking his fights carefully. and then one thing led to another, forcing xukun and yanjun to fight back-to-back, trying to ward off offenders from coming closer to the core of their circle - until someone came running up to yanjun, kicking the older boy down while brandishing a knife.

intuition told xukun to pull yanjun back, or to push him away. maybe even try to hit the opponent, drop the weapon in hand. so maybe xukun was the dumbass, for listening to instinct instead; dropping on top of yanjun, rolling them both out of the way just as the sharp metal sliced through the air. and a leather jacket. and a shirt. and maybe the skin on xukun's back.

a light slap on his back shocked xukun out of his reverie, causing pain to shoot everywhere in his body.

"you zhangjing what the fuc-"

"that," the older boy interrupted, "was for being stupid."

and as soon as the pain came, it went away with the touch of something cool and thick being slathered on the wound that had just been sewn closed. it stung but that meant the ointment was doing its job.

"and that," zhangjing tossed the oitment tube onto the table, "was for your stupidity."

the snort that came from yanjun was ill-disguised as a cough. xukun turned to glare at the current bane of his existence, who was also currently hiding behind the door of zhangjing's bedroom. he caught yanjun's eye, who returned his glaring with a smirk and a cocky eyebrow raise.

that was soon wiped off of his face when zhangjing screamed, "lin yanjun! get your ass out here now!"

xukun snickered. it's not every day he got to see yanjun being chewed out. he tried not to think about how it's been that way for a very long time now. yanjun grimaced before he shuffled out from behind the door, coming to stand in front of them. zhangjing, who was seated sideways behind xukun on the sofa, pointed at the floor between them and the table. yanjun followed the wordless command, sitting down on the floor. from his periphery, xukun caught sight of bits of dried blood on yanjun's silver-dyed hair. when he turned around for a better look, he winced; there were still some shards of glass tangled amongst the strands, where an empty beer bottle had struck him on the head.

"you're lucky the cut wasn't that deep," zhangjing started off again, peeling off the backing for one of the numerous kinds of dressings he kept on hand, "i might have to call the ambulance on you if it were. leave it to the professionals to do this shitty job, babying all of you. who's fucking brilliant idea was it to start this war again? don't answer me, i don't want to know."

his anger and frustration rolled off of him in waves, fingers still tender and kind despite moving in a jerky and tensed manner. _shit_ , xukun thought. they really did a number on zhangjing's nerves this time.

yanjun and xukun stayed silent all the while, zhangjing scolding them for being reckless and stupid, again. once xukun's cut was cleaned and covered with layers of gauzes and bandages, zhangjing turned to yanjun - blew out a heavy sigh as he did so - and got to work once more. grabbing the basin, cotton swabs and balls, and a pair of tweezers, zhangjing spent more time on getting bits of glass out of yanjun's hair and cleaning the scratches on his scalp, than he did on his complaints this time. only the quiet clinks of glass falling into the metal basin filled the air, the three of them opting to listen to the silence of the night.

in all honesty, it was surprisingly wenjun who had started the war. declaring themselves willing to fight against the crime syndicate who threatened to take over their territories, wenjun rallied his group - yuehua - into preparing themselves for the fight of their lives. something that most - if not all - the other groups' leaders of the city disapproved of. especially when wenjun went door to door, asking them to join hands in protecting their city, keeping their domain free from syndicate rule.

especially so, when zhengting caught wind of the war that was brewing.

zhengting... xukun hadn't seen him in years. none of them had. too caught up in their own worlds of responsibility, in their own realms of violence. too busy trying to ignore one another, trying to skirt around each other, trying to avoid an all-out war between any of the groups. too busy trying to let zhengting and zhangjing live out their normal lives in peace.

all three heads perked up at the sound of keys, tinkling against each other outside the front door. as it swung open, ziyi appeared, carrying plastic bags full of warm food from the smell of it. linkai followed right after him, thumbs flying furiously across the screen of his smartphone.

when the door was locked once more, ziyi held up the plastic bags, declaring, "i've brought a peace offering."

it sounded more unsure than it was supposed to, so yanjun merely scoffed at him while xukun rolled his eyes. zhangjing on the other hand, smiled up at the younger boy, directing him to put it on the countertop of the kitchenette. linkai flopped onto the couch next to xukun, still texting. the bruises around his left eye and cheek were still red and swollen.

"you need to ice that," xukun stated.

"yes mom," was linkai's immediate reply. still texting.

"he's checking up on the others," xukun looked up at ziyi, who'd taken to leaning against the wall, "yuehua and gramarie, at least."

because of fucking course gramarie high and yuehua would end up being buddies after this. xukun's not bitter. but he was sore. zhengting's legacy was out of his reach again.

"hey, i've checked up on the others too, y'know," linkai snapped, pausing in his texting. "yihan says they're all back at the studio, waiting for you. nongnong says they're headed towards the quarry; yixing-ge and jackson-ge are with them. ding-" he paused, thinking. "ho?"

yanjun erupted into a fit of laughter then, making zhangjing smack him on the shoulder for moving all of a sudden. "dinghao."

"right, him. they just got back to the club, all the girls accounted for," linkai looked back at his phone.

xukun noticed his grip tightening, lips pursed. he took one shuddering breath.

"chen-ge... he'll make it. jie-ge says they're at the hospital still." he looked conflicted here, eyebrows furrowed, teeth worrying his lip. "i..."

zhangjing stood up all of a sudden, a proclamation that he was done with yanjun. he picked up the basin full of bloodied cotton balls and glass shards, walking over to the bathroom to dump them somewhere xukun guessed. but as he walked back into the living room, xukun saw them. the signs of wear and tear. the eyebags, the wrinkles, and the gaunt cheeks.

 _shit_...

the oldest of them all went back to his seat, sinking into the cushions with a heavy sigh. his eyes were closed. like as if the weight of the world was on _his_ shoulders. in a way, it was. the weights of each of their worlds weighed heavily on him. always had been, ever since they were kids. always the protector, even when he couldn't swing a single punch of his own. always the caregiver, even when all they ever did was hurt him.

"you don't have to stay," zhangjing finally spoke. "you can go ahead linkai."

linkai's response was immediate.

"no!" he sprung up onto his feet, looking at zhangjing with bewildered eyes. "i mean, yanchen- yanchen's okay now! he's stable and everything! i can- i can stay."

"xiao gui..."

"i _want_ to stay." he said, eyes fixed solely on zhangjing. "i _have_ to."

there were unspoken words there. an invisible meaning in them. things best left unsaid, but still hung above their heads like swords ready to drop.

 _for him_...

_for zhengting..._

zhangjing sighed once more. but he nodded, understanding. "i'll go get some ice for that bruise. ziyi, grab that antiseptic and do something about your lip. xukun, don't you fucking dare- don't you dare fucking- DON'T MOVE. yanjun, wipe that smirk off your face before _i_ mess _you_ up."

that set off a round of quiet chuckling. linkai smirking, ziyi turning away to hide his smile, yanjun winking up at zhangjing, zhangjing feigning a slap in retaliation, and xukun internally glad that some things were still the same. only, they were missing a few key players in their little reunion.

the soft cough caught all of their attention, every one turning their gazes towards the bedroom entrance. wenjun was there, pretty face all roughed up, leaning heavily against the doorframe. his arm was in a sling, though there was no cast, just a wrist guard wrapped around his forearm. he looked...tired. more so than any of them. more so than zhangjing.

"he's awake," wenjun announced, then retreated back into the bedroom without another word.


End file.
